Witness to History

It seems that as a white evangelical, I am being encouraged to blindly support President Trump, which I cannot.  On the other hand, because I have in the past encouraged that the left back off from criticizing absolutely everything he does, I have been accused of being a Trump supporter.

If one were to bother to look at a blog I wrote during the lead-up to the 2016 election, it would be clear that I did not want Trump as president, but that I feared we might get what we “deserved” as a nation rather than what we “needed.”  That is what happened.  The choice between Trump and Hillary was an impossible one to make.  They have both shown themselves to have a problem with truth, although Trump certainly has less finesse in twisting the facts and does it with alarming egotism.

I understand why white evangelicals have supported Trump.  He has dangled conservative values in front of us.  He has not, however, lived conservative values himself.  He is playing a game and may abruptly betray those values.  How do you trust someone who distorts the truth, tosses wives aside, and is incessantly boastful?

I have, however, also been disturbed by the left picking at every little thing he has done.  Some of the criticisms are just plain illogical.  I am perfectly fine with a valid criticism, but everything he has done has not been wrong, and everyone he has appointed is not an incompetent idiot.  When you criticize everything, you lose the ability to level a valid criticism.  You have cried “wolf” so many times, that no one can tell when it’s for real.  So, to impeach or not?  Whose version of the events are we to believe?  Is this just another in the list of ways that liberals and progressives have tried to find an excuse to oust Trump, or can someone actually document his misdeeds?  Which media outlet are we to believe? 

Now he is abruptly pulling out of Mideast conflicts.  Whether he approves of Turkey’s invasion of Syria or is simply looking the other way, I don’t know.  Abandonment of the Kurds is nauseating.  BUT…it does seem to be a step in the fulfillment of prophecy regarding what will happen as the world’s clock ticks down to midnight, and the rightful KING returns.  An alliance between Turkey and Russia will happen.  Invasion of Israel will happen. 

Trump thinks he is a “stable genius” with “great and unmatched wisdom.”  He is actually a pawn in the hand of God to bring about God’s plan to draw the world to its predicted close.  The majority of people won’t believe this.  Trump certainly doesn’t.  But, God is sovereign in the affairs of men even when that is not obvious to us.  It won’t be the first time God has used someone who is amoral, maybe even mentally unbalanced, to bring about His purposes.

We are witnesses to an amazing time in human history, but instead of standing in awe, most of us are more concerned with who will win the current Survivor, and whether Ziva and Tony will reunite.

Come, Lord Jesus!

The Decimal Point

In the present era in the medical field, it is rare for a nurse to have to actually calculate how much medication to give to a patient, but that was not the case 50 years ago.  Medications now come from the pharmacy packaged individually in correct dosages.  Sometimes syringes are even prepared with the correct amount of a medication solution to be injected.

In the mid-60s, I was a recently graduated registered nurse and was working my way through college with a part-time job on weekends.  I worked nights at the hospital from which I had graduated, and I “floated” which meant I got sent wherever they were short-staffed, and often where the action was.  One night I was assigned to a medical floor, and one of my patients had an out of control blood pressure.  I was to give her an injection of a medication to lower her blood pressure.  The amount the doctor had prescribed did not match easily with the strength of the solution sent from the pharmacy, and I had to calculate the volume to be injected.  I did this in the medication room, took it to the patient’s room and gave the injection.

The elderly woman was mostly unresponsive as it was, but a few minutes later, she died.  This resulted in a flurry of activity, including the fact that her two sisters, also elderly, were informed and arrived.  They began wailing as soon as they got off the elevator and cried out loudly all the way down the hall to her room.  We ran around hastily closing doors to minimize upset to the other patients.  The sisters threw themselves over her body sobbing, “She’s still warm.”

At some point during this chaos, I had the thought, “What if I miscalculated, and I caused her death?  What if I gave 10 times too much?”  As soon as I was able to do so, I hurried back to the medication room and checked my calculations.  I satisfied myself that I had given the correct amount and put it out of my mind.  I doubt I would remember it now, except for something that happened a couple of weeks later.

I majored in chemistry in college, and a few weeks later a homework assignment was returned to me.  One of my answers was incorrect, because I had misplaced a decimal point.  The professor, knowing I was an RN, had written on the paper, “A mistake like this could kill someone, nurse.”  A wave of nausea and self-doubt washed over me.  “What if when I had recalculated, I had made the same mistake again?”  By that time, there was no way to go back and check a third time.

So more than 50 years later, it still plagues me now and then.  In the past year, I had a conversation with another RN from my era.  She knows that she made a medication error that did result in someone’s death.  She said, “You do thousands of things right, but the thing you can’t forget is that one mistake.”  I will never know for sure if I made a mistake, but I still can’t shake it.

I guess that’s what happens when you care.

Worthy of Her Notice

For weeks I have been walking by her, frequently greeting her.  She has shown no signs of even acknowledging my presence.  Today she became a pest!

When we sold our house and moved into an apartment near downtown, I established the habit of swimming in the Family Y lap pool three or four times a week.  Walking to the Y avoids the problem of finding a parking space.  It is only about a block away, if I cut through the city parking lot which is behind our complex and then through the historical society property.  A very pleasant walkway lies along the north side of the historical society building with an adjacent garden, interesting trees, and park benches.  In addition to the main museum, there are a number of out buildings.  One of these is marked “Private Residence.”  I am sure one or more humans live there, but it clearly belongs to a gray and white cat.  Perhaps the whole historical museum property belongs to her and even the nearby bank parking lot.

Often when I pass, kitty is lounging on the porch.  Whether or not she is asleep, she never acknowledges me, even if I say “Hello.”  Sometimes she is sleeping in the middle of the black-topped walkway having found a warm sunny spot.   She never moves, so she forces me to walk around her.

This morning as I passed, she was off the porch sharpening her claws on a rock.  I did not take that as a good omen.  But, she trotted after me, and then began weaving back and forth in front of me.  I altered my course repeatedly to avoid tripping over her.  I finally spoke to her and scratched her behind the ears.  Only then did she stroll off and stop entangling herself in my feet.

The queen has deigned to recognize me walking through her kingdom.

The Miracle of Life

Still in wonder here I stand,

Awestruck by your mighty hand,

Working with such craft and art,

True expression of your heart.

Intricate is your design,

Beauty I cannot define,

Each part meshing with the whole,

Linking mind, body, soul.

The miracle of conscious thought,

Of every fleeting moment caught,

We take for granted and assume,

Randomness some will presume.

The master potter molds the clay,

His very image to portray,

And someday every knee will bow.

As for me, I do it now.

I’m grateful that you formed me, made me,

Cared for me, redeemed and saved me.

Fashioned me and gave me breath,

Shelter me from birth to death.

The F Word

Today as I walked along the sidewalk, I came up behind a woman whose back was turned to me.  She had stopped and was looking at something down the street….I don’t know what.  She was so focused on whatever, that she did not hear or see me.  Just as I reached her, she uttered, “What the F*#@.”  Then realizing that I was passing her she said, “Whoops” and then “I’m sorry.”  I kept walking and did not stop to say anything to her. 

This four-letter F word is unbelievably common.  In movies I have seen recently, it seems to be part of every sentence.  I have overheard conversations in which the same seems to be true.  Toddlers use the word having no clue as to its meaning.

It is used so indiscriminately, that I wonder if it actually has a meaning anymore.

A few years back, I was at the skating rink and a woman had the 4 letters imprinted on her pants right over her buttocks.  This put them at eye-level of small children skating.  I did say something on that occasion.  A relative of the woman became furious with me.  She said the woman was from Europe and that it wasn’t a bad word; it was the name of a clothing company in Europe.  “Ah yes” I said. “And the clothing company was started by Franz, Charles, Ulrich and Karl and the marketing department has no idea that those letters have meaning.”

The F word is used to express hatred and contempt toward others, but also sprinkled in conversation to give emphasis or to make one seem tough or worldly.  Sometimes the word is not spoken, but a finger is raised to represent the word.

The terribly sad truth is that it is a horrific perversion of what God intended to be meaningful.  Sexual intimacy is not meant to be an animalistic act infused with hatred and violence.  God intended it for both procreation and pleasure for both man and woman.  It is supposed to be an experience that is physical, emotional AND spiritual.  He intended it to be symbolic of the ecstasy that we feel when we are united with Him.  That meaning is a mystery to us...something the human mind cannot quite grasp.  The devil himself wants to make it ugly.  If he cannot make it ugly, he wants to trivialize it and remove any meaning.

Every time it is used, something sacred is dragged through the mud and soiled beyond recognition.  This breaks my heart. 

Surrounded by Water

His breath parted the waters,

They crossed between its walls,

Their pursuers stuck in the mire,

Were swallowed up.

But first, Moses stretched out his arm.

His breath piled up the waters,

Sending them into a heap,

No matter that it was flood stage.

They crossed on dry ground.

But first, the priests stepped in.

Wind and waves buffeted the boat.

A frightening image appeared.

A man walking on the water beckoned.

Peter walked on the water to him.

But first, he got out of the boat.

The waters raged about the boat.

He slept as they worried.

He spoke and the wind obeyed,

The waves were stilled.

But first, they admitted their fears.

Help me to confess my fears,

Get out of my boat,

Step into the flood,

Stretch my hand to the task,

In obedience to you.

I Saw a Unicorn

On a recent trip to the mall, I saw a unicorn…or at least, someone who fancies herself a unicorn.

She wore a black dress which was too small and too short for her oversized dimensions.  I first noticed her, however, because of her footwear…silver platform boots.  She was clomping along on the super-thick soles of shiny silver boots which went almost to her knees.  As my eyes drifted upward taking this all in, I came to the black lipstick and then to…wonder of wonders…a head piece featuring a single black horn.

I chuckled to myself that she must have intended to go to Walmart and took the wrong turn and ended up in the mall.

Following her was a very round child of indeterminate gender dressed totally in black, but with no visible horn in the midst of a bizarre haircut.  Even so, I guessed the child was the unicorn’s offspring.

My amusement faded into a still lingering sadness.

Our society says we must accept others as they are, and that includes all manner of “self-expression.”  We are expected to walk past a “unicorn” without reacting with laughter, derision or pity, even if Halloween is still months away. 

However, as I see it, this woman is actually screaming for attention.  She wants to be noticed.  I seriously doubt that she dresses this way at home on a regular basis.  It would be pretty difficult to do housework in those platform boots on which she was precariously perched.  No…she dressed up to go into public.  She wanted people to think, “Well, there is someone who is not troubled by convention, and has the guts to express herself.”

I am sad for what she is doing to herself and her child.  Dressing appropriately for a situation says something about our respect for others and our respect for ourselves.  While I would hope she wouldn’t go to a job interview dressed in this manner, what if she passes someone in the mall with whom she has a job interview later this week?  As a potential employer, I would be afraid she had a screw loose and wouldn’t risk hiring her.  What kind of example is she setting for her child?  Is she setting her child up for bullying?  Or, will her child eventually be embarrassed by the mother and lose all respect?

Accepting others as they are is one thing.  Ignoring bizarre behavior is another.  How have we come to this place in our society, that there are no standards of conduct?  We look the other way no matter what others do or say.  Does this woman have no spouse or no friend who can encourage her in the right direction?  If I go up to her as a complete stranger and say, “Oh, honey, you really shouldn’t be walking around like this,” she will have no reason to think I genuinely care about her and that my opinions are valid.  It will just reinforce her desire to “follow her own path.”

So, since I don’t know her, I can say nothing, do nothing.  I can only feel sad for her and her child and pray that someone close to her will have the courage to help her.  She is screaming for help without knowing it.